


mashed potatoes

by memitims



Series: chicago pd [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Sexual Content, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2038617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mickey visits mandy for thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mashed potatoes

Mickey took a few days off around Thanksgiving to go visit Mandy in Cincinnati. It was about a four-hour ride, so he gassed up his car (an old, shitty Honda Civic, because he couldn’t afford much nicer on his salary, and nice cars usually didn’t last long in his neighborhood), stocked up on crappy road-trip snacks, and said goodbye to Ian.

“I hate you,” Ian told him, as they were wrapping up some paperwork in Mickey’s office. He was planning to leave at noon so he could get to Mandy’s in time for dinner, but they had a few last-minute things to file, and Ian hadn’t fully accosted him for taking off during Thanksgiving. “Thanksgiving is crazy at my house. I’d kill for some peace and quiet.”

“You could always come with,” Mickey said, secretly hoping he would, because he wanted Mandy to meet Ian, and he was also gonna miss the guy, and the car ride would go much faster if Ian was next to him, humming loudly to every single song on the radio, because he was actually a freak. 

“I can’t,” Ian groaned. “As noisy as it is, I’d really miss having Thanksgiving with them. Plus, Fiona needs all the help she can get.” 

“Fine. I’ll go enjoy my nice quiet dinner. Tell Debbie I found a CD she’d like, I’ll bring it over next week.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Ian asked. Mickey was pretty sure Ian was wholeheartedly amused by him taking a liking to Debbie, but she was sweet, and also not, and she reminded him of Mandy. She had fucking great music taste (unlike Ian), and she always got excited when Mickey came over (she pretended not to, but he wasn’t dumb), and she made kickass chocolate-chip banana bread that Mickey was actually addicted to. 

“A surprise.” Mickey stood up and grabbed his bag from behind his desk. “Gotta go.”

Ian stood up too, his eyes flashing as Mickey rounded his desk, and he darted forward, pushing Mickey up against the desk. Mickey dropped his bag to the floor. “Ian,” he whined. “I gotta get out of here.”

Ian pressed their lips together, grabbing the back of Mickey’s head with his hands, and Mickey melted into him. The kiss was long, and slow, and Mickey got lost in it, got lost in the maze of Ian’s mouth and his hands and his hips pressing into Mickey’s, and the cold wood of his desk pressed into Mickey’s back, and oh yeah, they were in his fucking office. Ian’s hands traveled down Mickey’s back and palmed at his ass, and he made some undignified noises, and Mickey was gonna have dreams for a week about Ian (in his stupid lab coat) fucking Mickey over his desk. 

They were panting heavily when they broke apart and Ian’s eyes were bright, his lips shiny, and shit, Mickey held on to the last semblance of self-control he had and wriggled free of Ian’s arms. 

“See you soon.” Ian leered down at Mickey, his voice deeper and scratchier than usual. 

“Fucker,” Mickey said, flipping Ian off as he grabbed his bag and stomped out of the room, thinking about innocent things like bunny rabbits and flowers and Dora the Explorer. 

\---

Mandy hugged him when Mickey finally got to her apartment, and Mickey actually hugged her back, because he hadn’t seen his sister in months and he really missed her. She showed him to his room, and her apartment was tiny, but she had a guest room and Mickey was grateful. His back would not appreciate having to sleep on the couch. 

“This place is nice,” he said, looking around, and Mandy smiled at him.

“Isn’t it? Like I told you earlier, I got promoted at work, and this was a good deal, so here I am. I love having the place to myself.”

“Yeah,” Mickey teased, “So you can be your giant weirdo self and no one will know.”

She socked him on the arm. 

Mickey got settled in his room and joined her for dinner around the small kitchen table, which was literally just a box of mac and cheese, because apparently Mandy was saving all her cooking skills for tomorrow. They were pretty quiet as they ate, in typical Mickey and Mandy fashion, because neither of them were really big talkers and were content with enjoying each other’s company in silence. They talked a little bit about Chicago and their jobs, and Mickey knew he had to tell her.

He took a deep breath. “Remember Ian Gallagher?”

“Your partner?” Mandy asked. “The nerd?”

Mickey nodded, his throat getting a little tight. He knew Mandy wouldn’t care, but it was just hard to explain what he felt for Ian. “We’re um, kinda going out.”

Mandy laughed. “I thought you hated the guy.”

He laughed, too, because Mickey could hardly believe that he’d been so naive once. “Well, I don’t. Just thought I did. Turns out, I have it really fucking bad,” he added, quietly.

“Wow,” Mandy said. “Chicago P.D. let you fuck your partner?”

“Mandy,” Mickey replied, seriously. “It’s not like that. 

She shoved a bit of pasta into her mouth, her eyes twinkling, like she could read some big secret on Mickey’s face, like she could see the way he felt when Ian stepped into a room, or smiled, or put his hands in Mickey’s hair. 

“Damn, Mick. You’re getting soft in your old age,” she said, around a mouthful of mac and cheese, and Mickey glared at her, because he’d taken out a serial killer last week and he was not _soft_. 

“Fuck off, Mandy. What’s the deal with your love life? Anyone even want to date your crazy-ass?”

Mandy frowned at him. “Had a boyfriend. He cheated on me, so I kicked his ass to the curb. Was kind a douchebag, anyways.”

Mickey nodded, and she continued. “Had a girlfriend. Love of her life came back into the picture, though, so that was the end of that. She was kinda sweet, actually.”

“Sorry,” Mickey said. Mandy shrugged. “Got over it. There’s a new girl that works at the library, though, and she’s really fucking cute. Gonna see what happens there.”

“You go to the library?” Mickey asked, incredulously. 

“I do now,” Mandy smirked. Mickey shook his head. His sister was totally unreal, sometimes. They moved on to other topics, like what they were gonna cook tomorrow, and they laughed and teased each other, and Mickey didn’t know what he’d do without Mandy. 

\---

Mickey was sliding into bed that night when his phone rang. He groaned in the general direction of his bag, reluctantly getting up to fish his phone out. 

He smiled when he saw who it was.

“Fuck do you want?” he grunted into the mouthpiece, “I was about to go to sleep.”

“Hello, asshole,” Ian said, clearly amused by Mickey’s pretend annoyance. “You miss me?”

“It’s been like eight hours, Ian,” Mickey replied, not really denying it. 

“Yeah, and I’ve been thinking about throwing you on your desk and finishing what we started the whole time.” Mickey hated him. He hated that Ian could say that stuff with a straight face, could just lower his voice and drive Mickey crazy with one sentence. 

“Fuck,” Mickey breathed out. He fell backwards onto the bed, keeping the phone pressed tight against his ear. He knew exactly where this was going. 

“Yeah,” Ian echoed. “Fuck. You in bed right now?”

Mickey made an affirmative noise, and Ian let out a few breathy whimpers in response, and fuck, Mickey was definitely hard now, it didn’t take long, not when he was picturing Ian in his own bed, making those fucking noises, completely unashamed. They washed over him, lighting his body on fire, and Mickey was so fucked.

“You touching yourself?” Ian asked, because he could just say these things without his cheeks burning red, not like it mattered since they were on the phone, but whatever. 

“Not fucking yet, Mr. Impatient,” Mickey said, palming at his dick through his boxers before reaching inside and grabbing it. He let out a little half-sigh, completely unintentional, and he could practically hear Ian’s smirk through the phone. “Okay,” he said, unevenly, his voice breaking a little on the second syllable. 

“Driving me crazy all fucking day,” Ian said, his voice dipping lower. “Can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop thinking about your hair, and your shoulders, and your ass. Can’t stop thinking about bending your over that desk and biting your neck, and-”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Mickey interrupted, because it was too much, he was gonna explode, and his head was filled with Ian, Ian, Ian, his big, soft hands and the white-hot heat of his eyes and his fucking mouth. Mickey tugged at his cock and Ian breathed in his ear, muttering nonsense words. “Ian.”

“What,” Ian whined, clearly almost as far gone as Mickey. “What is it Mickey, tell me. Talk to me.” His voice was shattered and it curled up Mickey’s spine, and Mickey’s hands were moving fast and desperate now, he just fucking couldn’t get enough. 

“Your hands,” Mickey moaned, because he needed to contribute something to the conversation, and Ian’s hands were all he really cared about right now, wanted them on him, wanted them touching him, wanted them. “All I can think about are your fucking hands. And your fingers, Jesus _Christ_ your fingers. On my neck, on my chest,” Mickey paused for a second, catching his breath, listening to the rustle of Ian’s bed through the phone, hanging on to every raspy hitch of Ian’s breath, “Inside me.”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian growled, “Shit, shit, shit. ‘M close.”

“Me too,” Mickey breathed, and he tipped his head back against the pillows, finishing himself with a low noise, hanging onto Ian’s every sound on the other end of the phone. Ian came, too, and they both kinda just sat there and breathed with each other, and Mickey smiled stupidly into the phone. He tried not to think about the fact that Ian is probably doing the same thing. 

“Fuck,” Ian said. “I miss you.”

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Mickey replied, gently. “I’ll be back in a couple of days, dumbass. Try not to wither up and die without me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mickey,” Ian laughed. “I don’t miss you _that_ much.”

Mickey laughed too, and said goodnight, and fell asleep with a dumb smile on his face. 

\---

Mickey and Mandy spent the whole day cooking, and they didn’t even make that much food because it was just the two of them, but they were still exhausted when dinner came around. They had gotten through it with a minimal number of smoke alarms going off, zero turkeys burned, and only one (you’re-fucking-annoying-and-I-hate-your-guts-but-I-actually-love-you) fist-fight. 

Svetlana called in the middle of dinner, so Mickey excused himself to answer the phone and flopped down on Mandy’s couch. 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, when Mickey answered the phone. He returned the sentiment. 

“You kiss orange boy yet?” Svetlana asked, and Mickey made a little choking noise before answering. 

“Wow, you get right to the point, don’t you?”

Svetlana sighed. “Answer my question, stupid, or I come all the way to Chicago and leave knives in your bed.”  
“Fuck,” Mickey exclaimed. “Fine. Yes, okay? I kissed Ian. He kissed me. End of story.”

She made a happy noise. “Don’t fuck it up. Orange boy is special, I see that.”

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed, quietly, his thoughts drifting to Ian, and then Svetlana groaned into the phone. 

“Okay, too sappy,” she said. “You want to talk to son?”

She put Yev on the phone, who babbled for a few minutes about their Thanksgiving, and then, apparently, got distracted by dessert and dropped the phone. Svetlana picked it back up and told him about Yevgeny’s new obsession with trains, and then they said their goodbyes and Mickey headed back into the kitchen. 

Mandy whipped a spoonful of mashed potatoes at his head as Mickey sat back down.

“Ow, what the fuck?” he said, as the mashed potatoes hit him in the shoulder and slid down his shirt. Mandy giggled at the look on his face, and he glared at her. 

“Get the pumpkin pie, dickwad,” she demanded, flinging another hunk of mashed potatoes towards Mickey.

\---

Mickey left the next afternoon, lugging half of the leftovers down to his car and waving goodbye to his sister. He made her promise to come visit Chicago soon, and she told him she would only if he promised she could meet Ian. Mickey grudgingly agreed, but secretly couldn’t wait for them to meet. He knew they’d get along spectacularly. 

The ride home was longer on the way back, and Mickey was kinda dreading going back to work, but he had missed Ian and couldn’t wait to see his stupid face. He texted Ian, telling him he’d be home a little bit, and Ian just replied with a winky face. 

Mickey pulled into the parking lot outside his apartment, and Ian was there, leaning on his car like something out of a fucking dream, all lean lines and long legs and a dazzling smile. 

“Hi,” he said, striding over to Mickey as he got out the car, and he pressed Mickey against the side of his Honda and kissed him like the world was about to end. 

“Jesus,” Mickey breathed, when they stopped kissing for a moment. “Missed you too, Gallagher.”

“Fucking right you did,” Ian said, pressing their bodies closer together, and Mickey really, really, really wanted to be upstairs in his apartment right now, and also, not wearing any clothes. He tugged on Ian’s shirt in the direction of the door, but Ian made an apologetic face. 

“Sorry,” he frowned. “Gotta get to Liam’s soccer game.”

Mickey made an undignified noise. “You fuckin’ tease,” he said, in disbelief. 

Ian grinned. “See you at work tomorrow.”

Mickey glared at the back of his head as he walked away.


End file.
